


a civil service

by visforvictory



Series: Small Things that Bloom [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Awkward Cullen, Cullen Has Issues, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Lyrium, Mages (Dragon Age), Mages and Templars, Purple Hawke, Shameless Smut, Smut, cullen can't say no even if it's a terrible idea, hawke gets, what hawke wants, which is a given - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 15:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visforvictory/pseuds/visforvictory
Summary: Cullen’s eyes narrowed. ‘Your bedchamber is a safe, controlled place?’---Under the pretext of 'lending the Knight-Captain a helping hand,' Hawke seeks something very specific from the enigmatic Knight-Captain of Kirkwall and finds something she didn't know she wanted.





	1. unnecessary tinctures

**Author's Note:**

> A side story that sprang forth from the alternate branches of 'In Kirkwall', substituting torrential angst for rivers of gratituous smut.  
> The meat of this short story used to be a part of In Kirkwall but got cut since it didn't fit tonally. I always wanted to do something with it, so here it is. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave feedback / comments / kudos! Thanks for reading.
> 
> (third chapter: mostly complete barring a few pending tweaks. argh I've been slow but it hasn't been abandoned!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke decides to lend the Knight-Captain a helping hand.

It was Thursday. Hawke was a few days early for her weekly meeting with the Order's second-in-command, but she had a good idea of where the young Knight-Captain would be. He was as outwardly devout as Sebastian, though she personally figured Cullen actually meant it when he prayed.

Hawke sighed and kicked her feet through the dust by the Chantry steps.

 

They usually met on Tuesdays. Hawke's weekly report, which consisted of Hawke droning on at Cullen about all the foul things she had murdered that week, was the little arrangement that had kept Bethany out of the Gallows, before the Wardens had taken her. Now Hawke continued to meet with Cullen because it added some stability to her routine, recounting the improbable events of her days. 

She had first caught sight of him when she was still scraping by in Gamlen's awful shack, running shitty jobs and digging up coppers in Darktown. One afternoon she had seen him walking with Meredith Stannard through the city square. Kirkwall’s templars didn’t tend to be young and certainly not handsome, and Cullen’s golden curls were eye-catching at the very least.

‘Who’s that over there with good old Iceface?’ she had asked.

Both Varric and Aveline had given her the exact same look.

‘ _No_ , Hawke,’ they had both said, steering her away.

Explanations came later. Knowing he was the Knight-Captain made him more intriguing and all-the-more forbidden. But Hawke had had nothing and she had been no-one, and even she had enough sense to stay away from the imposing darkness of the Gallows.

_Never forget what you are, Hawke. Underneath all the trappings and the noble titles and the wealth, you are what you were born to be. Apostate._

Oh, but he had a reputation that was ever so tempting. Beautiful boys were often bad, and Hawke had formed an intriguing idea of the Knight-Captain’s persona; difficult, a miserable asshole, reputedly dark, and damned if he hadn’t piqued all her interests.

Then she had saved his life on the Wounded Coast and discovered Cullen Rutherford was quite the opposite of all those things.

He had been incredibly reserved and awkward around her at first, not that it surprised her. He was the Knight-Captain, after all, and she a dirty mage, no matter that she was one of the sane ones.

Slowly, over the last couple of years, he had relaxed around her to the point where he was now convivial and awkward, and sometimes almost companionable. It put thoughts into Hawke's head where they should most definitely not have been. For Hawke had a craving that was almost impossible to satisfy, despite the string of boys and men Isabela kept shoving into her bed.

The Champion of Kirkwall considered her own new title and her status, as she often did these days, with stunning ambivalence.

Her latest dalliance had ended in spectacularly awful fashion, and Hawke wanted nothing more than to be alone--and yet she could not refuse the siren call of Isabela's wild parties in the cabins below her ship's deck.

Night after night she slipped down to the lantern-lit rooms where the wine flowed and the gauze curtains trailed like veils across her skin, promising an unending stream of fingers, tongues and hard bodies to please her.

Yet something empty remained. Though Isabela did her best to keep her friends happy, there was something even she could not provide Hawke.

Hawke had always known these desires were hers to keep secret, and that they were hers to remain unfulfilled. So she would take herself down to the docks, slide down the ladders and slip below the dark waters, and she would lose herself in someone else, take them inside her, pretend that she could fill a void that would never be filled while the loneliness ate away at her. Day by day, until she was finally nothing but the Champion of Kirkwall, the last to linger in the old Amell home.

_Now I am no longer no-one, and I wish I could be._

So the Champion of Kirkwall, such as she was, waited outside the Chantry, skipping stones into the pond until the Knight-Captain appeared.

'Hey, Cullen,' Hawke said as she saw him come down the Chantry steps.

He saw her and raised an eyebrow. 'Hawke? Were you waiting for me?'

'Just feeding the birds,' she said as his eyes narrowed slightly. Cullen had finally gotten used to her crap, and had learned not to take everything she said seriously.

Hawke missed the look of alarm that had been a constant staple on Cullen's face when he had first started taking her reports. Not so long ago, she had accidentally convinced him that a fleet of mage-cursed vampire squid had taken up residence off the shores of the Gallows, and he had been very unamused when she had dropped by the next day and he was standing at the harbour watching a group of divers trawl the waters.

'There's nothing down here!' he had said.

To which Hawke had raised her hands and given him what Varric had termed her ultimate shit-eating grin.

'What in the seven bloody hells do you mean, you were joking?' Cullen never swore. Hawke was quite proud of that accomplishment. She wasn't quite so happy when Cullen gave her the coldest look she had ever seen on him, colder even than when he was dragging blood mages back to the Gallows.

She was even less happy when Cullen gave her the same cold treatment for the next two weeks. Instead he took to grilling her about every single detail of every single report until Hawke almost regretted the vampire squid jape. _Are you sure about the bandits. How many bandits, exactly. Were they real bandits. Really, Hawke. Are you sure they weren't vampires. What about squid. Would you say they were squid-like? NO? Perhaps crustaceous. Would you have called those bandits crustaceous? NO? How about water-breathing..._

And Hawke had realised Cullen actually did have a little bit of a sense of humour, even if she didn't like how it had manifested.

He was studying her warily.

‘So what are you doing?’ he asked, suspicion clouding his tone.

‘I can’t make Tuesday’s appointment,’ Hawke said with a shrug. ‘Thought I’d see if you were free today instead. Heard there's a blood mage wandering the Coast again, thought we could kill two birds with one stone.’

Cullen thought about it. She could practically see the wheels in his head turning.

‘I do have some time,’ he said at last. ‘This had better not be one of your little pranks, Hawke. I’m fairly busy.’

Today it had taken less badgering than usual for him to agree to visit the Wounded Coast with her. She suspected he wanted some time away from Meredith Stannard. He was nothing if not loyal, but she had noticed that recently when he spoke of the Knight-Commander he chose his words carefully. As for Hawke, she merely wanted a distraction. Funny how she had left one Chantry boy not too long ago and yet stood by the Divine's doors again, bothering another.

 

 

The paths of the Coast wound in confusing spirals, but Cullen was unerring in his navigation of the twisting forks and rubble-strewn branches of the cliffside walkways. Hawke wondered how much time he spent up here on his own, near the campsite where she had first met him. 

When they found the rogue mage he was already cutting into his own flesh, screaming a curse at them. _Apostate_ , Hawke mused, such as she was.

Cullen had his hand out and a smite radiating out of his palm before the blood mage could cast. He was fast, Hawke realized. Watching him press the mage down into submission made her shiver. She could almost imagine the way it felt.

He used only enough force to subdue the mage. Templars usually didn’t care. Hawke had gotten blasted with the full force of enough clumsy, futile smites and silences that she knew that much. Most mages weren’t strong enough to fight off a smite, but Hawke was... different, for reasons she had never understood. Some days she thought herself lucky, others quite the opposite.

Cullen wasted no lyrium. Instead he metered out his holier-than-thou smite with such precision that Hawke gawked a little even as she pointed her staff at the blood mage and cast. She watched dispassionately as the man-turned-maleficarum shivered into oblivion. How many creatures had she slain? She didn't know. Cullen probably did.

Cullen drew a weary breath and removed his hand from his sword hilt. He hadn’t had to draw it, not with her around.

‘What is it?’ he asked, since she was still eyeballing him.

Hawke considered her words for a minute before settling on something neutral. ‘You’re not bad at that.’

Cullen shook his head. ‘He wasn’t one of the difficult ones.’

‘What’s difficult?’

‘You’re difficult,’ he said, rolling his eyes.

 

They stopped to rest at a spot open to the north, the Waking Sea spread out before them. On a clear day like this one could stare across to Ferelden, across the wrecks of ships that had shattered on the Coast.

Cullen was staring at the distant shores, his hands steepled in front of his face, chin resting on his fingertips.

Hawke surveyed him from where she sat across the fire. He was still somewhat of an enigma to her. She couldn't figure out if he only tolerated her because she'd saved him from a ghastly death, or because duty spoke. There were days when she thought he hated her and days when she caught what seemed like respect and almost, maybe, admiration in his gaze. The only reason she cared was because his position had a lot of relevance to her life, and also because he was aggravatingly handsome.

Sebastian was lithe and dark and lean, light on his feet and lightning-quick with his bow. Cullen was the very opposite. He was handsome but too golden, and he certainly wasn't graceful like a rogue when he was clanking around in all his templar regalia.

Still, there was something very protective about him. Hawke had noticed this trait in him from the start. She had been helping him, and he had been—what? Looking out for her the entire time. Guarding her flank. It was something she expected from Aveline or Fenris. She quite liked it coming from him. And when he said farewell to her and offered her his thanks, she liked how close he stood, as though his presence could stave off the darkness around them.

Isabela had given her a lot of grief over that.

Well. And there was the other possibility, the one she always considered when templars were near. Hawke pushed it aside.

She eyed him from where she sat across the fire. He was usually reticent, even more so regarding his personal life. Hawke actually didn’t think he had one. She had never seen him at any of the watering holes in Kirkwall, only seen him heading to the Chantry or the Keep or out on duty. He also seemed to be the only templar in all of Kirkwall not to frequent the Blooming Rose.

Sometimes she’d happened upon him battling maleficars and abominations, and had popped in to save the day and put him and the Order just a little further in her debt.

Hawke realised she was glad he held his position. Not only had he helped to keep her in Meredith’s good standing, he also seemed to care about the inhabitants of the city and the Gallows more than most of the other templars. There was a dark streak that ran through the Gallows, and he was, if not a fully-known quantity, on the side of the light.

He also didn't seem to revel in his title, judging by the weary manner he always had about him. That was refreshing.

Cullen heaved a sigh.

'What is it?' she asked.

He responded with another heavy sigh, and she raised an eyebrow.

'Nothing,' he said. 'I shouldn't trouble you with my problems. I'm sure you have enough of your own.'

'I can handle it,' Hawke said. 'I'm an expert when it comes to dealing with other people's problems.'

He looked up and flashed her a rare smile. 'You certainly are.'

'So what is it?'

'Some other time,' he said, shifting uncomfortably. 'Really, Hawke. It's not something you can help me with.'

She was dying to know, but he shook his head and switched the conversation to the weather, to her disgust. He was surprisingly chatty when he loosened up a little, and yet he never spoke of deeper matters.

‘How’s your love life, Cullen?’ Hawke couldn’t resist poking him.

‘I don’t have one,’ he said resignedly. ‘Do we have to—‘

‘Pretty boy like you,’ Hawke started, knowing he hated people talking about his looks. Cullen didn’t seem to care about his own appearance. He was always poorly shaven and somewhat scruffy, and he was _still_ good-looking. It was aggravating.

‘Don’t,’ Cullen said with a groan.

‘So there’s no lady in Kirkwall that tickles your fancy?’

‘We should head back,’ Cullen announced, standing up to go.

‘So there is,’ Hawke observed.

Cullen sighed and started putting out the fire, and began the process of herding her back towards the city.

 

'How do you find your new title?' he asked curiously as they headed back into Kirkwall proper, through the throng of people in the main square.

'I don't know,' she said. 'Doesn't mean much to me.'

Cullen's scrutiny made her uncomfortable. 'You’ve been more subdued lately. Ever since the business with the Qun. I just thought—You can... you can talk to me about anything you want, Hawke,' he said.

'As the Knight-Captain? I'm sure you have enough problems of your own,' she said.

'Well,' he said, 'I don't know if I'm an expert at dealing with them, but you can find out.'

Hawke raised an eyebrow.

Cullen cleared his throat and looked away. 'I mean, only if you want to. I should really get back to uh. Work.'

'Cullen,' Hawke said as he was turning to go. He stopped and glanced back at her, brow raised. 'Thanks.'

He nodded, and then he was lost in the crowd.

 

 

 

A couple of weeks later, Hawke was picking up some alembics from the market when she heard the distinct sound of Cullen's voice floating just above the bustle. He sounded oddly nervous. She had heard him fumble his words before when she teased him about the Blooming Rose. The rest of the time he was usually calm, with an overtone of grumpiness—aside from the vampire squid incident, which had launched him into full grouch mode. Today he sounded like a hot mess.

Hawke kept to the backs of the stalls as she homed in on his stammering and, staying out of his line of sight, found him chattering to one of the girls at a stall that sold potions. 

_Ah_ , she thought. The source of the Knight-Captain's problems. Hawke was too intrigued to let it lie. What kind of woman had snagged Cullen's eye?

The girl was not what she had expected. Templar plate and five o’clock shadow or no, Cullen was an attractive specimen, and birds of a feather tended to throng together. But the object of his infatuations was a fairly plain-looking young lady who seemed almost as humourless as Sebastian was when he was speaking of Starkhaven.

Hawke was puzzled. The hubbub was too loud for her to pick out his words, to her annoyance. She watched as he coughed and stammered his way through the transaction. She could see more of the girl's face than his, but she did notice the flush of pink that stained his pale cheeks. It was strangely fetching on him.

The girl didn’t seem in the least intererested in his interest. This, too, puzzled Hawke. Was she perhaps not into men? Could Cullen be that much of an idiot?

The potion-seller was joined by a slightly older young lady at the stall, who greeted both Cullen and her fellow associate as she got to work putting out more wares. Cullen's awful attempts at making conversation died there, and he made his purchase and left, but not without attempting a smile that would have melted the heart of almost any other young woman in the city. The potion-seller seemed unfazed, though her associate clasped her hands to her breast with a sigh.

Hawke rolled her eyes and waited until Cullen was quite out of sight before making her way over to the stall.

'Hello,' she said, cheerfully.

'Champion,' the elder of the two girls said, clearly excited such a notable was gracing her store. 'What might you be looking for today?'

'Didn't know the Knight-Captain shopped here,' Hawke said blithely, pretending to be interested in some of the tinctures. Some were useful enough, and she moved them into a little pile on the table. Nothing got salespeople talking like the potential promise of cash in hand.

'He does,' the quiet, plain girl said, after giving Hawke a curious look. 'He comes around to buy something random every Friday.'

Hawke almost laughed at Cullen's transparency. 'You don't seem impressed with him,' she said, not one to beat around the bush. 'Templars not your kind?'

'No,' the girl said at the same time her companion said, 'She's a fool.'

Hawke laughed.

The older one added, 'If the Knight-Captain paid me that much attention, I'd be giving him half the potions on this table.' Hawke snorted again, and the older girl grinned.

'He's a nice-looking fellow,' the older girl remarked. 'Venara here doesn't seem to care.'

'He's easy on the eye,' Venara admitted, 'but he's boring.'

Hawke burst out laughing so hard her sides began to ache.

Cullen, _boring_. It was true, but it didn't make it any less entertaining to hear.

'Do you know him well?' the older one asked.

Hawke shrugged and tapped her staff. 'I have to work with him,' she said. 'He's--' she decided it was prudent not to insult the man who had been helping keep her out of the Gallows cells-- 'very serious.'

She decided to toss him a bone. He had always been reasonable with her, given the circumstances. And he kept his promises.

'He's a good man,' she said, a little less flippantly. 'And he has a kind heart.'

Did he? She supposed it was true.

Venara shrugged. 'He shouldn't just come around here to make small talk and natter about his problems, just because he lacks for hobbies. Or friends.' She paused. 'You should have a word with him, Champion. That man needs all the help he can get.'

Hawke decided she liked this Venara girl. She paid for the small pile of potions and took her leave. An idea was forming in her head. Whether it was bad or good remained to be seen. Which meant it was probably bad.

 

 

'Saw you at the market the other day,' Hawke said as she matched Cullen's pace. He was heading towards the Chantry. Cullen’s routes were nothing if not predictable, and it was a blessing nobody cared enough to assassinate him.

'Hawke,' he started, then gave her a suspicious look. ‘What did you say?' There it was, that hint of red rising in his cheeks.

'Problems, eh?' She nudged him with her arm, not that it did much against the plate he wore.

'Were you spying on me?' he asked, flustered.

'Just doing my shopping,' she said easily. 'Picking up a stock of potions.'

Cullen stopped and stared down at her.

'She's interesting,' Hawke added. 'So is your taste in women.'

At that the Knight-Captain went a horrible shade of red. 'Hawke--' he began, but she cut him off.

'Relax, Cullen,' she said. 'I think it's cute.'

That made him even more flustered.

‘It’s really nothing,’ he started, but she waved a hand in the air.

‘Oh, don’t be silly. She’s a nice girl. Venara, was it?’

Cullen opened his mouth. Then he stared at Hawke again. Then he closed his mouth. Then he opened his mouth again and said, ‘Were you eavesdropping?’

‘I would have if the market hadn’t been too noisy,’ Hawke admitted. ‘I saw enough to figure it out, though. Really, Cullen. How did you manage to pick the one woman in Kirkwall who isn’t swooning over your dashing Knight-Captainly ways?’ She laughed as his perfect brows knitted together. Rattling Cullen’s serious air counted as good, cheap entertainment.

She let him compose himself a little. Finally, he said, 'Firstly, Hawke, that isn’t a thing, and secondly, I don't... think she cares much for me.'

He paused, then added, 'And there's definitely no swooning.'

'She thinks you're boring,' Hawke said without thinking, and then cursed herself.

It didn't actually seem like news to him. 'Oh,' he said, with a crestfallen expression that made her slightly regret her loose tongue, 'I thought as much.'

Hawke raised an eyebrow.

'I am boring, I suppose,' he said with a resigned sigh.

Hawke stared up at him. 'Uh,' she said, and then realised she didn't know what to say to that. _No, no you're not, not boring at all, you've got tonnes of hobbies... like locking mages up and sniffing round Kirkwall for blood magic. Also writing up mountains of paperwork._

'See,' Cullen said, with a faint air of amusement, but also a tinge of hurt.

A thought crossed Hawke's mind. 'Cullen,' she said, 'are you a virgin?'

He almost choked on air. 'W-what?'

'Right. I thought so,' she said.

'I didn't say anything. What does that have to do with...'

Hawke caught his arm. 'I'll help you,' she said. 'You're not going to be boring by the time I'm done with you.'

Cullen snatched his arm away. 'Maker's breath, Hawke. I'm going now.'

'Come around to my place for dinner when you're done,' she called after him. 'I've got special Gallows business to discuss with you, but I can only discuss it in private. With you. You'd be remiss in your duties not to come...'

Cullen just kept walking.

 

 

To Hawke's shock, there was a knock on her door later that evening, and the owner of that knock was Cullen.

Bodahn let him into the foyer, and when Hawke came to greet him she found him standing miserably in the centre of the room, clanking slightly in his armour, looking down at her sleeping hound.

‘Dog, you are the worst guardhound ever,’ she said, and glanced up at her visitor.

'Cullen?'

'Hawke.'

'You actually came.'

'You told me to.' He paused. 'You don't actually have Gallows business to discuss, do you?'

'That was a joke,' Hawke said.

He sighed. 'So was that. Me, I mean. I mean...' He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole.

Hawke shook her head and beckoned him into the dining room.

'I wasn't actually sure you were coming,' she said, 'so you'll forgive my partially-eaten dinner, I hope.'

Cullen was staring at the table. Hawke hadn't given it much thought in a while, but when she followed his gaze it did seem ridiculous how much food was on it. There were eight heaped dishes on the table. It was a wonder she wasn't gaining weight.

'Is this... Are you expecting anyone else?'

'No,' she said, feeling a little silly. 'This is just everyday fare.'

Cullen massaged his jaw back into place. 'Your fortunes have certainly changed.'

'Well, the servants get whatever's left after dinner,' Hawke said. 'Nothing gets wasted.' Damn it, she didn't need to explain herself to him.

She glanced at his platemail. 'Do you actually eat in all that metal junk you're wearing?'

'Not usually,' he said. 'I don't have any squires here. I'll live.'

'I'm a dab hand at it,' Hawke said. 'I've gotten many men out of their armour. Ladies too.'

'I'm _sure_ you have,' Cullen said, and Hawke laughed at the unexpected jab.

'Bodahn,' she called, 'Help Ser Cullen with his suit of armour, would you?'

She paid Bodahn well for a reason. Her manservant was an excellent hand, and soon Cullen was divested of his gear and in a simple linen tunic and form-fitting pants that Hawke admired unabashedly. She also made sure Sandal was nowhere in sight. Nothing killed a sexual escapade quicker than Sandal’s beaming face asking earnestly about _enchantment_.

'You do clean up nice,' she said. He ignored that and pulled out her chair for her, even though it was already pulled out from where she'd been sitting before.

'Such manners, Knight-Captain. They teach you that in templar school?' Hawke smiled.

He sat down across the table from her and stared at the cornucopia that was her dining table. 'I don't know where to start.'

Hawke rolled her eyes and started dumping food on his plate. 'We're not in any danger of starving,' she told him. 'Put it all in your belly, how about that? Blood mages are exhausting, aren't they?'

He ate silently for a while, until Hawke got impatient.

'So. What's it about that young lady you like so much?' Hawke asked.

‘It’s not... I don’t—‘ He gave up. ‘This is very awkward,’ he said, frowning. The colour was back on his cheeks again. ‘Do we have to—‘

’Oh come on, Cullen. You didn’t just come over here for dinner. I think you’re dying to get it out of your system.’

‘Fine!’ he said, exasperated. ‘She’s the only person in the whole damn city who talks to me like... like I’m a person and not just the Knight-Captain.’ He stared fixedly at his plate.

‘The only person.’ Hawke raised an eyebrow.

‘Well,’ Cullen said, ‘You do talk to me rather the same way as you do to your dog.’

Hawke sometimes found it hard to tell if Cullen was making a joke. She ignored him when those moments arose.

'Alright, well,' Hawke said, 'She thinks you're boring--'

'Thank you for the reminder,' he interjected.

'--thinks you're boring, so you're going to have to do something about that.'

'Like what?' He paused, fork midway to his mouth.

'Like stop being a god damn virgin,' Hawke pointed out.

'I'm leaving!' he said, but there was no way in hell the Knight-Captain would be leaving a dinner like this one, and they both knew it. Her table was laden with culinary delights beyond measure. Orana was an incredible chef, and Hawke’s vault was infinite.

'Why don't you just go to the Rose?' she asked.

_'No_ ,' he said in a tone that was final.

'Fine,' Hawke said. 'I knew you were going to say that.'

She raised a finger. 'Alright, Cullen. We’re friends. I'll help you out.'

Cullen paused again. 'What... do you mean?' He stared suspiciously at her. There was something quite appealing about the Knight-Captain blushing at her table.

'Eat up,' she said.

'No, Hawke, wait. What are you saying?' He looked genuinely confused. 'You're not to talk to anyone about this.'

'Listen up, Rutherford. I'm popular, aren't I?'

'You are,' he admitted grudgingly.

'Despite the fact that I'm not _that_ pretty.'

'I didn't say...'

'I'm fine with that,' she said, which was true. She had no lack of admirers to share a bed with. And here he was.

'But...'

'It's all about the charm,' she told him. 'Which is something I have in spades and you don't.'

He gave up. 'Alright. What do I do?'

'Like I said, Knight-Captain. Eat up.'

 

 

Friends, that was it. Friends with sinew, sharp cheekbones and... Hawke shook her head. Perfectly safe and boring, that was Cullen. This was a simple, uncomplicated arrangement. She owed him. He owed her.

Hawke had dragged Cullen upstairs despite his balking.

‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Sit there.’ She pointed at her bed.

‘What are you planning?’ He folded his arms over his chest and remained standing. Hawke took a moment to admire him again without his armour on, a rare sight.

'I said I was going to help you out with your woman,' Hawke said. ‘Why don’t you trust me?’

"No!' Cullen said. 'This is wrong. I'm in charge of you. I'm supposed to be looking after you...'

That was news to Hawke. 'Whaaat, Cullen? Looking after me? I've been looking after you, if you ask me. I don't need you watching over me like a guardian angel. And I'm the Champion, not you. So I'm in charge. You're not my damn boss.'

He didn't budge. 'It's inappropriate,' he said. 'And you've got this all wrong. I'm...'

'Listen,' she told him. 'I'm just giving you instructions. You just sit and listen.'

He raised his hands and paced the room. 'I should go, I should really go,' he muttered.

Hawke just watched him.

'Fine!' he said after a while. 'But don't do anything.. uh, unwholesome.'

'Sure,' Hawke lied. Nothing about it was unwholesome, if you looked at it from her perspective. Just maybe to Cullen, and quite a lot of other people. Definitely the Chantry. Also Cullen's boss.

‘Lesson one,’ she intoned when he finally sat down on the very corner of her bed and put his forearms on his knees so he leaned over his long legs and stared at the wall.

‘On how to make Ser Cullen not boring.’

He checked a sigh.

‘Ser Cullen needs to feel... confident,’ Hawke said, wagging a finger at him.

‘You don’t think I am?’

‘Only when you’re being the Knight-Captain. How do you expect anyone to see you as anything else if that’s all you pretend to be?’

Cullen looked up at her. ‘I don’t know what else to be,’ he said, sounding anguished. ‘I don’t remember being anything else.’

Hawke paused. ‘I don’t either,’ she said, slightly unsettled by his words. ‘I don’t remember being anything but... this.’ She waved a hand at herself.

He turned to regard her, his eyes thoughtful. They were stunning eyes, she thought, an unusual mix between hazel and amber.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘I’ve been a mage since as far back as I remember,’ she said. ‘Didn’t really get much of a choice there.’

Cullen seemed like he wanted to say something, but kept quiet.

‘And now I’m the Champion of this blighted city,’ she said. ‘I don’t even know why. I don’t know why your boss gave me that title. Did she not see this?’ Hawke pointed at the staff leaning against the wall.

‘She wanted to... reward you for doing the city a great... favour,’ Cullen said, and then he gave up. ‘I have _no_  idea what she was thinking.’

‘Hah,’ Hawke said.

‘She doesn’t tell me much,’ he added. ‘I know you think I have a cushy life, but it’s not really that much fun being...’ He sighed and let the sentence trail off. ‘I shouldn’t complain. You’ve been through a lot.’

He smiled at her. 'You did save the city, you know.'

'Right,' Hawke said, unconvinced. 'Would you have made me Champion?'

He thought about it. 'You do ask the most difficult questions,' he said, pursing his lips. 'I don't know. Maybe. I'd have to look up the regulations.'

‘Life goes on,’ Hawke said, unable to tell if he had been making another joke. ‘I wouldn’t want your job. Hell, I don't even want my own job.’

She echoed his smile. It was refreshing talking to Cullen in this casual manner. Almost as though they were... friends. She liked that he knew her but didn't know too much about her. Not about her mother, not about the Deep Roads, not about Carver and Bethany. Hawke hated the way her companions had been treating her lately, as though they had to tiptoe around her.

‘Anyway,’ Cullen said, lifting a finger and pointing it vaguely at her, ‘I just thought you should know I’m not um. I have been with women before. Woman. One woman.’

‘Ooh,’ Hawke said. ‘Do tell.’

He sighed. ‘It didn’t go very well. I was young.’

‘That’s why you need help,’ she told him. ‘What happened with the girl?’

'Well,’ Cullen said, ‘she said I was boring.’ He gave her a look Hawke could only describe as sly, to her surprise.

'She did not.’

'No,’ he admitted. ‘We didn't seem to be a particularly good match, so I called it off. My work doesn't really make things easy, anyway.’

'Cullen... Do you have any hobbies?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘What’s a hobby?’

‘Gods, Cullen. Something you do in your spare time that isn’t work.’

'I read books.’

‘About?’

‘The efficient hunting and trapping of blood mages.’

Hawke couldn’t tell if that was a joke either, so she ignored it too.

‘Seriously, Cullen. You need a hobby. You _are_ boring.’

Insults ran off the Knight-Captain’s back like water off Tevinter Imperium statuary. Hawke knew Cullen was used to it. Nobody in the city really liked the Templars. Even the Templars didn’t like the Templars. Everyone was scared of Meredith; they directed their complaints to Cullen, and they didn’t address him particularly well. He was too young for his title, too blond and too pretty.

‘I know,’ he said with a shrug. ‘You said something about fixing that.’

Hawke had been thinking about it for a bit. Now it was an actual possibility. She hesitated only a moment before making a decision.

‘You just need experience in a safe, controlled place,’ she said.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed. ‘Your bedchamber is a safe, controlled place?’

‘Cullen,’ she said. ‘I don’t want anything more than a little relief. I know who you are and what I am. You need some help. I could do with a little distraction.’ It was true enough. She refrained from telling Cullen about her other inclinations, the ones Sebastian hadn’t been able to satisfy and that she certainly hadn't told him about.

‘You don’t want to be seen at the Rose,’ she said. ‘I get that. I don’t either. And you want to forget everything, just for a few moments. So do I.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Hawke,’ he said, sounding perplexed. ‘Why on the Maker’s earth would you want to do anything like this with me?’

‘Because...’ Hawke floundered a little and finally gave up and resorted to truth, or at least part of it. She was wise enough not to tell him all of it. Not yet. Instead she sat down beside him.

‘I trust you, Cullen.’ It felt odd saying it. She did trust him. Besides, they were equals now, and he certainly had no more power over her given her newfound status. In fact, she could probably have gotten him into far more trouble with the Knight-Commander than vice versa. What strange times they lived in.

He was mulling her words over. There was an expression on his face she couldn’t read. Hope, perhaps? She didn’t understand.

‘All... right.’ He remained sitting where he was. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Hawke reached out. Her hand hesitated just before reaching its destination. _Cross the line._ She ran her hand through his golden locks. His hair was as soft as she had imagined.

Cullen caught his breath. ‘Maker, Hawke, this isn’t a good ide—‘

She shut him up with her lips. He sat very still for a second, and then he slid an arm around her waist and his mouth moved against hers with a passion so suddenly fierce it made her heart lurch.

She pulled away gently. ‘You _do_ know something,’ she said.

Cullen didn’t say anything for a while. His eyes were hard to read. Finally, he said, ‘I don’t. But you could show me. Uh. What you like, I mean. What this hypothetical lady might like.’

Hawke let her fingers travel to the laces of his shirt. He made no move to stop her as she undid them and slid the shirt up and over him, over the hard lines of his body and solid muscle that ran across his chest and arms.

‘That’s not a problem,’ she whispered in his ear, feeling him flinch. This was good. This was cathartic, getting the straitlaced Knight-Captain to show some emotion and... well.

She went to the other set of laces under his waistline.

Cullen caught her hand. ‘I...’ he began, and then his voice trailed off and he let her hand go.

She took that as permission and tugged firmly at the cords, her hand brushing against him. He made a choked gasp. Of course he was hard already. She smiled up at him.

‘Also not a problem,’ she said.

‘This is so wrong, Hawke. I shouldn’t be doing this. If Meredith...’

‘Oh, Cullen, we’re just friends. This doesn’t mean anything. And Meredith,’ Hawke said, ‘doesn’t tell you half of what she gets up to. Nor what she pays apostates to run around looking for.’

‘You’d better explain that at some point,’ he said, though his breath was coming harder.

‘I will, I will,' Hawke said impatiently. 'But right now, we are fostering and expanding—‘ she moved her hand against the prize behind his laced breeches, and started to undo the lacing very deliberately— ‘the strained relationship between the nobility and the Order.’

He sat frozen as she finished unlacing him and his newly-dubbed political instrument sprang free.

‘Just performing a civil service,’ Hawke said as she bent over and slid her lips over him.

Cullen gasped. ‘Hawke,’ he said, and that was all he said. He didn’t move to stop her as she took him fully into her mouth and he made a noise that was in between a moan and a sob.

He was satisfyingly large. Hawke came up for air. ‘For Kirkwall,’ she said as she went back down on him and let his _instrument_ slide down her throat.

Cullen swore. Another accomplishment to Hawke’s belt.

He was hot, and he throbbed in her mouth, and she could hear his breath coming warm and hard as she slid her lips down over the entire length of him. She gave him a few demonstrative pulls before withdrawing.

‘Have you ever...?’ she asked. He shook his head, eyes wide.

‘Really?’ Hawke shook her head. ‘You have bad taste in women.’

She kissed the tip of his manhood. It was almost annoying that everything about Cullen was beautiful. Perhaps it explained the stubble he always sported, an attempt to hide his face.

She drew his hands to the back of her head. ‘Firmly,’ she said. ‘But not too hard. You can help.’

Her mouth opened for him again, and she guided his hand to draw her down and onto him. Cullen did moan then, a long, drawn-out noise that said volumes about his need and torment.

She considered her options. He wouldn’t be able to last long. Would he be able to perform twice? He had the energy of a man who hadn't found release in far too long, she figured, vigorous and half-starved. Twice was possible, if her touch was any good. She took his cock into her throat in earnest now, as hungry for him as he was for her. Yes, let him. She could feel the shudder in his thighs as he grew close. He tried to push her away, but she held him fast, her hands tightening on his hips.

‘Hawke, I—‘

She went deeper. He almost sobbed as his release hit the back of her throat. And she came. Lyrium and seed and power flooded into her in a sensation she craved, almost what she wanted from him. Not yet, she thought, while the world spun around her.

He caught her in his arms and pulled her up into a heavy embrace, while her breath shook and the lyrium shot through her body, winding through her very being.

Did he know? Could he sense her need? Hopefully not, she thought. It was too soon.

'Let me return the favour,' he said in a low voice. Hawke was too dazed to say anything.

He was undoing the ties of her robe, uncertainly, when he paused and looked like something had just bitten him.

'Hawke, wait,' he said. 'I thought you were with, ah, the prince of Starkhaven.'

She stared at him, recovering some of her senses. 'Cullen, how in the hell do you know that?' She paused and added, 'I was.'

'Ah...' He rubbed the side of his head. 'I'd heard you were together.'

'Not anymore,' she said. 'But that's not an answer. How in the hell do you know that?'

'Ah... Just barracks chatter. I don't participate, but I have ears. And I've seen the two of you at the Chantry.'

_And hidden in the antechambers, fucking?_ she wanted to add, but held her tongue. Instead she said, 'Anyway, it wasn't working out. So that's that.'

'Why's that?'

'My, my, you certainly do take an interest in the Champion's affairs,' she said. 'Well, Sebastian's incredible in bed, that's a certainty, and he does know how to use that silver tongue.'

Cullen grimaced, looking uncomfortable at the mention of her bedtime practices.

She paused again, looking wistful. 'But he's in love with the Chantry and going back to Starkhaven to rule, and I'm... me.'

'Right,' Cullen managed. ‘Ah... What’s wrong with the Chantry?’ It wasn’t an interrogation. He sounded slightly hurt.

‘The Chantry,’ Hawke said, ‘is the only reason you're here. Because this is just therapy, Cullen. We both know it can’t go any further. And then we can both go back to reality and you can find someone who fits just right into your crazy life.’

Cullen processed her words for a while. ‘Right.’

She made a quick assessment of him. Sebastian and Cullen were both Chantry boys. Both had given their lives to the Chantry willingly. She knew neither of them had done it for silvers, unlike most of the templars in Kirkwall. But Sebastian was so pious in speech that nothing unpleasant would ever pass his mouth, not even when the most cruel things were coming out of it, masked in politeness.

Cullen, as she had realized after the squid incident, usually maintained the guise of manners, but had a very biting side to him. It was refreshing. Hawke wanted to push all his buttons to reveal any other interesting facets he might have.  She had so far uncovered Ser Sarcastic and Ser Crabby, and recently Ser Blush-A-Lot. Ser I-Read-Books...

Also Ser One-Woman. She grinned and leaned over.

'If you don't want to be _Ser One-Woman_ forever, feel free to return that favour,' she whispered in his ear.

Her robe came loose when he pulled the last knot undone. He didn’t slide it off her, just let it slip off her shoulders and expose her to him. Hawke felt the cool night air on her skin and shivered.

‘I can shut the window,’ he said, rising, but Hawke pulled him back down to her.

‘You can warm me up,’ she said.

He looked at her for a long time, until she raised an eyebrow.

‘So, ah,’ Cullen ventured, ‘what did the prince do with that silver tongue, exactly?’

‘Do you want to know?’

He reached out his hands and placed them on her knees, and when she let her legs relax and part a little, he drew them apart.

‘Tell me,’ he murmured, lowering his head over her. ‘For, ah... diplomatic reasons.’

Hawke lay back and propped herself up on her elbows and gazed at him. 'It's just like kissing, Cullen.' When he glanced up at her, his cheeks flushed red. She smiled and crooked a finger at him, and pointed.

He knelt down on the floor, between her thighs and kissed her as she had directed. Then he diversified. He was, Hawke realised, a good lover. _It's Cullen_ , the little voice of reason piped into the back of her mind, _this is ridiculous, and you should bloody well stop._

But his mouth was soft and hot and urgent in all the right ways, and he responded to every movement she made. If her trembling ceased and her moans diminished, he redoubled his efforts. Ah, well. The Chantry bloody well owed her.

He let his fingers slide against her, and hesitated.

'Yes,' Hawke told him, and he entered her slowly, gently.

'Tell me what you like,' he said. She caught his hand and showed him. He followed her lead, his mouth still working on her, and then he went lower yet.

Hawke squeaked.

'Well!' she said, in an attempt to recover some semblance of control, although she didn't think she was fooling anyone. 'Sebastian never did that.'

‘And did he do this?’ Cullen slid his tongue into her even as he moved his fingers into her other entrance. Hawke had not been expecting the sudden invasion, and she found herself shuddering into orgasm even as he kept doing what he was doing to her.

‘N-no,’ she managed, her hands clenching on his shoulders.

It sounded like Cullen said _Oh, good,_ but she came again and her thoughts unravelled for a good few minutes. When she came to her senses, Cullen was still going.

‘Stop,’ Hawke managed as the sensations grew too intense. Almost as high as...

He stopped and looked up at her, his smooth brow creasing.

‘Was that wrong?’ he asked, worried. 'Did I hurt you?' 

‘No!’ she said. ‘It was... too good.’ She ran her hands through his soft golden hair, feeling a sudden surge of affection. It was too much. She stopped and let her arms fall to her sides.

‘I haven’t felt that before,’ she told him, and she couldn't help but smile back at the smile that appeared on his face.

'So tell me,' she said, when he was lying by her side, both of them staring up at the ceiling, his hand around hers. 'Is there something about mages?'

He looked so uncomfortable she almost felt sorry for him.

'Is it like the way templars reek of lyrium and it makes me want to--'

'Uh,' Cullen said, cutting her sentence off. 'I don't know. Maybe.' He rolled over to squint at her. 'Is this a hobby of yours I didn't know about?'

'No,' Hawke said, only slightly dishonestly, 'but you're not the first templar I've experienced.'

'Oh.' He lay back, looking embarrassed.

'If it helps,' she said, 'I've never been in an arrangement like this before.' She felt oddly vulnerable saying it.

He didn't say anything to that, but his hand squeezed hers. After a moment, he sat up and looked as though he might leave. Hawke considered her options briefly before throwing prudence to all hell.

‘I think you’re ready to learn something else,’ she said, and she slipped out of the robe completely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch2 is... much smuttier. 
> 
> comments and kudos and general goodwill much appreciated as always! :)


	2. as you like it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked at every inch of her, and though his face was flushed, there was a hunger in his eyes Hawke wanted to unleash. 
> 
>  
> 
> Cullen got to his feet, startling her. He leaned forward over her. ‘Boring, am I?’ He had her over his shoulder before she could move. ‘I’ll show you boring.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here have some angst in your pr0n :) the next chapter hopefully shouldn't take this long to spit out! (kudos and comments will light a better fire under my ass haha)
> 
> happy holidays!

The soft fabric of her robe pooled under her, spilling over the edge of the bed. His gaze had a weight to it that Hawke could not dismiss. He looked at every inch of her, and though his face was flushed, there was a hunger in his eyes Hawke wanted to unleash.

_Patience_ , she thought. 

Cullen was already wavering again. ‘I still don’t think—‘ he began, and now he was avoiding looking at her.

Hawke turned his face gently so he couldn’t dodge the view in front of him.

’Andraste said we should love,’ she told him, ‘love freely, give of ourselves so that we might heal. To Maferath she said— _I will heal you, when we join in carnal pleasure._ How can anything so blessed by Her be anything other than pure and necessary? We shall do the Maker’s work, Cullen.’

‘You just made that whole thing up,’ he said.

‘I’m just paraphrasing. And you’re wasting time.’

Cullen’s hesitation was curtailed when Hawke drew her knees up and parted them.

‘Didn’t I please you, Cullen?’ She looked up at him through her eyelashes. _Slut look_ , Isabela had said with a laugh. _Always a winner._

And it did damn well work. Cullen groaned and knelt between her thighs. She eyed him with unconcealed appreciation.

‘You have nothing to worry about down there, at least,’ she remarked.

Cullen blushed. ‘Maker, Hawke.’

_Maker made me a giant sack of contradictions,_ Hawke mused. _I could be the greatest damn bloodmage in all of Thedas, probably turn Kirkwall into an army of abominations. I could be unstoppable. Could fight an unholy war and raise my own Archdemon._

Instead she was turning the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall into her personal erotic thrall, and it was a lot more fun than keeping abominations in line.

He was hard and more than ready again. When his flesh brushed against hers, the anticipation and the heat of his cock made her shudder. His fingers traced the line of her thigh up to the crook of her knee. He hesitated. His skin brushed hers, between her thighs, taut sinew settling against her. She was achingly ready.

‘Now,’ she told him. His eyes met hers as he lifted his hands and drew her knees wider apart. Hawke didn’t usually appreciate muscles or warriors, but there was something primal about having such a fine example of the type between her legs.

Gods, even though it was Cullen and he was the safest of all templars, there was something so fundamentally fucked up and inherently dangerous about taking templar cock that she almost came just from being under him, that thick head of his pressing against her.

Cullen drew a long, ragged breath and pushed down into her.

She came almost instantly at the sensation of him filling her. She was surprised by his control. Not _that_ surprised, she thought, considering the man she had inside her. But the most repressed ones usually ended up being the least so.

Maker, he was large. It took him a while to seat himself fully in her, one of his hands finding and squeezing hers as he did. When he had hilted himself all the way so his pelvis pushed against that little bundle of nerves at her entrance, she convulsed helplessly beneath him. Beneath the  _Knight-Captain_. Hawke shoved that thought aside. What was a lady to do if the Knight-Captain just happened to be young, virile, willing and so intent on what he was doing to her?

‘Is it... Are you...’

‘Very good,’ she said. ‘Proceed. Harder...’

He groaned as she wrapped her legs around him and drew him closer, filling part of that void inside her. Then he thrust into her, strong hands tightening on her hips as he did, and she could feel the force of his need. He shifted so he was above her, his hands on either side of her, cock shuttling in and out of her body as he claimed that tight passage.

’Do it,’ Hawke whispered. ‘Cullen...’

He groaned again and drove deep into her.

‘Yes,’ she gasped as she clenched around him.

He began to thrust into her in earnest. His shaft pulsed heavy and hot inside her. _Lyrium_ , she thought. It manifested differently in everyone who consumed it. The contrast of the chill night breeze and the strange heat of his body inside and over hers made her come again.

Her lips and tongue on him earlier hadn’t freed whatever tension lingered in him. He was still holding back, not quite certain of their boundaries and his own limits. Hawke wasn’t sure of her own either. _Not yet._ In the years she had been in Kirkwall, she had learned some temperance. Clearly not much, but some _. Patience, Hawke._

She pressed her hand against him and brought him to the speed she wanted, until things clicked into place and she felt comfortable enough to let him let loose.

Not that Cullen was good at letting loose. She guided him with her hands, dragging him into her over and over until every fibre of her being seemed to gather around the sweet, desperate spot where he was joined to her. Even but for a night.

He kissed her as his thrusts became harder and he let instinct take over, almost. Somewhere through the haze of pleasure, Hawke considered how he seemed afraid of hurting her. Ah, well. In time he would learn how far she could be pushed. Hopefully in the next hour or so.

She was being fucked by the  _Knight-Captain_ , and it felt unbearably right. There was that burning heat in his cock, stretching her wide, and with every thrust that heat built with an insistent pulse as she felt lyrium start to gather inside her. He was close. She pulled his hand down between her legs. He traced her with his fingers. She felt her own release draw near, waiting for the rush of his seed to make her quiver and shake. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, lips hot against her skin, his weight pressing her down into the bed.

His orgasm was violent, the cry that erupted from his mouth hoarse, and Hawke came with the flood of pleasure that shot into her where they were perfectly joined. If she had thought the lyrium rush overwhelming before, her thoughts were barely coherent now, everything gathered up in a furious fluttering knot deep inside, coming undone.

_Very therapeutic_ , she mused as he slumped down against her. She lay, fingering his hair witlessly, waiting until thought returned to her brain. Slowly, though Cullen hadn't moved, she felt herself come back to life.

'You're… unexpected,' she told him, running her hands through his hair.

Cullen mumbled something she couldn't quite hear.

'What's that?' 

'I'm... I'm ready again.'

'What?' She was genuinely shocked. But he was still inside her, and his cock was indeed hardening inside her, a sensation completely new to her.

'How...' She was already writhing again as his length started to fill her.

'Lyrium,' he mumbled, pushing himself up on his arm. 'I’m sorry. I didn’t think... I can stop, if you want.'

‘No,’ Hawke breathed, catching him by the shoulder. She held him inside her and regarded the vista of his torso and face before her until he shifted uncomfortably under her eyes.

'So?' she asked.

'Ah...' He leaned in towards her. 'I don't... That was really.... nice.'

Hawke let her jaw drop. 'Such praise,' she said.

He was flushing again. 'It was amazing,' he said. 'You were...' His voice trailed off. 'You know.'

Hawke didn't care to probe too deeply into what he wanted her to know. His lips were conveniently close to hers, and she kissed him experimentally.

‘What do you like, Cullen?’ she asked curiously, considering the way his lips responded to hers and the shifting of his cock inside her. She was impressed by his self-control.

‘All of it,’ he said.

She prodded him.

‘Well, I do like it when you uh, you know. Come.’

She hadn’t expected that answer, and pulled away to look up at him. ‘Really?’

‘It’s nice to know I’m doing something well,’ he said, a wry smile forming on his face. ‘And it’s nice to see you uh, you know.’ He floundered for the word. ‘Happy?’

Happy. Hawke hadn’t felt particularly happy in a long while, and certainly hadn’t thought anyone really cared if she did.

’Do you always...?’ he asked. Hawke found it both hilarious and a little endearing that the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall couldn’t quite say certain words without stammering or blushing.

‘Come? No.’

He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully.

‘What do you like?’ he asked.

She told him.

 

Cullen had her face down in the pillow.

’Are you sure?’ he asked.

‘Stop ruining it and do it, Cullen.’

Cullen unscrewed the vial of oil. Hawke felt him rub it into her with his fingers. She felt the broad tip of his cock jut against the only other entrance they hadn’t tried yet.

She did like it, though there weren’t many men whom she trusted to take her that way. Sebastian had been surprisingly demanding in a way that spoke volumes about how he expected her to behave on his throne.  
‘You really—You like this?’

‘Not always,’ she said. ‘I think I could with you. Hurry up, Cullen. Don’t keep a lady waiting.’

He slid into her slowly, gently. Cullen was always tender with her unless she told him not to be.

‘You have to tell me if it hurts,’ he said, though his voice was strained, his hand going to one of her wrists and gripping it firmly.

‘You feel so good,’ Hawke mumbled. ‘Don’t stop.’

‘Promise me,’ he said, sliding a little further.

‘Yes, yes,’ she whined. ‘I promise.’

He pushed into her firmly, deeper. Hawke felt his other hand slide against her clit, and she came as he bottomed out in her and she felt his hips thrust hard against her.

‘Oh, gods, Cullen. Yes.’ She preempted his next question before he could say it. ‘Yes, I’m sure.’

He started to move inside her. Maker, he _was_ a large man, and thankfully gentle.

‘Harder,’ she whispered. ‘The way you did it to me earlier.’

Cullen swore under his breath again and sped up his pace. His fingers never stopped moving against her, while he thrust into her over and over again. He slid a finger into her other entrance, then another, and she felt so incredibly full it was almost too much.

It was almost enough when he spilled into her for the third time that night. Almost enough to fill that need. Almost.

Hawke came so many times she thought she had died. It could wait.

They lay side-by-side on the bed, breath heavy and ragged.The Knight-Captain had come in every single one of her entrances. It felt satisfyingly debauched to have his seed in her. _Fuck the Chantry_ , she thought. _I just did._

‘Well,' Hawke said, leaning her head against the muscles of his arm, 'now you'll be able to show your lady some tricks.'

Cullen looked sidewise at her, confused for a moment, then coughed. 'Right.'

‘It shows, you know,' she told him. 'When someone knows what they're doing.’

He paused and squinted at her. 'Ah.' Another pause. 'Er...'

Hawke waited.

'I might need... more practice.'

She smiled.

 

 

It was good for both of them, what they were doing. This temporary thing. Cullen could get some much-needed confidence. Hawke could satisfy some exotic urges. Then they would simply go their own ways.

He did seem more relaxed and a little more self assured these days. But there was always that faint air of sadness about him that Hawke found quite intriguing. And there was still that other thing she wanted.

Cullen would never stay the night. He always returned to the Gallows. There were times Hawke had fallen asleep after their lovemaking sessions only to wake and find Cullen still awake, his arms around her, staring off into space despite the dark circles beneath his eyes. He was very broody at times. Broodier even than Fenris. Hawke thought they would probably get along if they ever met, and refused to let it happen.

It was getting a little harder to hide her new habit. Aveline had always had her suspicions, but wasn’t given to prying. Isabela was, but she was preoccupied and subdued after her run-in with the Qun. Varric seemed to think she harboured an unrequited crush on the Knight-Captain, or rather he’d said one night at the tavern to Fenris, ‘Don’t worry. Even Hawke isn’t _that_ stupid.’

Hawke decided nobody needed to know. 

 

 

 

‘Do you know what they say about me?' Hawke asked as they went up the stairs to her room. 'People, I mean.'

’Yes, actually,' Cullen said without thinking.

‘Oh?' She led him through the door. They stood by the flickering warmth of the fireplace.

‘They say you're a bit frightening.'

‘Only a bit?' Hawke was infuriated. 'Were they not watching in the Keep when I killed the damn Arishok? What do I have to do to...’

’A _lot_ frightening.'

‘That's more...'

_‘Scary as shit,_ I believe the common term is.'

‘Well, what about you? What do you say?'

‘Like I said, Hawke.' He smiled at her. ‘Scary as shit.' His lips found hers, hungry and warm.

Hawke pulled back, holding a finger up. ‘I want to know,' she told him. 'It must be frustrating, you being the Knight-Captain and all, knowing you can't stop me, a scary-as-shit apostate mage.'

He was silent for a moment. Had she gone too far? _Good job,_ Hawke, _great mouth on you._

‘No,' he said. 'I like that about you.'

Her jaw dropped open slightly. Of all the words she had ever expected to pop out of his mouth--not those.

‘I wouldn't be doing this any other way,' he said.

Hawke hadn't really considered his position. The rumours about the Gallows were rife, about templars who overstepped their responsibilities and worse. She wondered how difficult it was for him to be here, doing all the things he had done to her. That they had done together.

This favour was running in a strange direction. She needed him to humanize her, to turn her from the Champion into just a woman. What did he need? Someone to direct him, to be the one telling him what to do for once? Meredith didn't sound like she was doing much guidance these days, if she was ever around. She looked at him, and she thought she saw him, finally saw who he was behind the armour and the Chant and the mask he wore.

Cullen was as lost as she was.

Well, if she had ever felt bad about what she had convinced him to partake in, she certainly didn't now. This was therapeutic. Nothing more. She slipped out of her robe and took his hand, leading him down onto the bed. 

He ran the tips of his fingers over her bare skin, slowly tracing the contours of the bones of her neck and shoulders.

‘I once thought magic was something to be revered, to be worshipped, or guarded carefully,’ he said.

’And now?’ she asked, wondering at the rare glimpse of old pain that flashed over his face. 

He shook his head. ‘Something happened.’

She didn’t probe. It was rare that Cullen revealed anything about his innermost thoughts.

He parted her legs gently, his lips tracing the soft inner skin of her thighs. She felt uneasy under the intensity of his gaze, adored by the contradiction kneeling before her. Perhaps she felt worshipped by his touch, perhaps his kisses were nothing but reverent when he reached his goal between her thighs.

When he was done, she lay back and stretched languidly as he sat up and regarded her in silence.

He ran a hand over her skin, tracing the curve of her breasts, her navel. He had grown more confident over the last few weeks, and usually he would have followed up by pulling her down onto him, but today he paused and held her there.

’Why didn't you and Sebastian...?' he asked, demonstrating his astounding lack of social graces even as he drew her knees apart again and positioned himself between her legs. He was a lot nosier than she had thought, now that he had warmed up a little. Now that he had been inside her a good few times.

She shrugged. It still stung a bit. She knew most of Kirkwall assumed she'd dumped Sebastian, but it had been quite the opposite. Sebastian had said he was in search of someone to be a princess, and she'd hesitated, and then he'd looked hurt even as he bent to service her, and then the next day he had told her there wasn't any point in continuing whatever bond he had thought they had.

Then he had promptly gone off in pursuit of one of the most devout members of the Chantry's congregation, a sweet young thing who was a nobleman's daughter and unwed and most decidedly everyone's idea of a beauty and a damn fine princess in the making.

As she told him, Cullen pushed into her, and she made a noise. He was becoming adept at the art of pleasing her. She hadn't told him yet about the other part of why she was doing whatever it was she was doing with him.

He had opened up a lot more over the last while, and yet today he was oddly silent as he drew his clothes on and prepared to leave. 

'What's got your tongue?' she asked.

'Just... nothing,' he said. 'It's been a long week.'

She walked with him to the back entrance of her manse, both of them companionably silent. His hand rested lightly at the back of her waist. Hawke found she liked the reminder of his presence.

'For the record, Hawke,' he said as he was going out the door, pausing and turning to look at her.

'Hmm?'

'I think you're beautiful,' he said, looking earnestly at her. 'Just... you shouldn't think otherwise.’

'You think Venara is beautiful,' Hawke pointed out.

Cullen blinked in confusion.

‘When have I ever said that?’ he asked.

She cocked her head to one side.

'She might not be a beauty. But I like who she is. She doesn't pretend to be anything else around me. And she does listen to my foolishness.' He laughed ruefully. 'Which is probably why she doesn't seem to think very highly of me.'

He glanced at her again. 'But I meant what I said. And Hawke... if Sebastian Vael’s too blind to not want you the way you are, he’s a fool.’

'Well,' Hawke said, and when she looked at him she saw he did mean it. 'Thank you.'

He nodded and stepped out into the night, leaving Hawke staring out after him until she came to her senses and shut the door.

Cullen thought she was beautiful? Handsome Cullen Rutherford with his warm brown eyes and razor-sharp cheekbones? That wasn't so bad to know.

 

 

They didn’t often speak of the unspeakable gap between them, but one day Ser Karras rubbed her the wrong way. He was barely a step up from Ser Alrik. Hawke vented some of her frustrations on Cullen that day, snapping a little when she gave her report.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked when he kissed her that night in her chambers and found her stiff-shouldered and slow to respond. 

Hawke looked at him. ‘You know what mages aren’t, Cullen?’

He sighed.

’People,’ Hawke finished.

Cullen was silent a long while. Hawke waited. And waited.

‘That’s it?’ she finally said.

’I don’t know what to say,’ he admitted. ’I’m not... I didn’t mean it the way you think I did.’

‘Just another walking bomb here,’ Hawke said in her most amicable voice. ‘Bit of a bombshell.’

‘I’m sorry I ever said that,’ Cullen told her, and she searched his face and found it sincere, ashamed even.

‘I want to know what you meant,’ she said. This time she was serious.

‘I merely. I meant... I don’t know, Hawke. _You_ know what mages can do.’

He looked up at her. ‘You’ve killed more mages than I have.’

‘Ah, shit,’ Hawke said.

Cullen heaved a breath. ‘I...’

Hawke waited again.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I won’t have blood mages shredding innocents again. Not under my watch.’

‘I’m a mage,’ Hawke said. ‘If you hadn’t noticed.’

His brow creased. ‘I didn't... I never meant to upset you. Perhaps I should go.'

She could have let him go, walk out of her house and her life and return to the Gallows to sit alone at his desk. She could have returned to the ship and the decks below and the endless, mindless mouths and hands.

Instead she put her hand out to rest gently on his cheek.

‘Don’t,’ she said, and she kissed him. Why, she could not say. Perhaps he needed a little rescuing of his own.

Cullen was not just a templar. Perhaps behind the mask he was just like her, like her companions, like any of the broken souls in Kirkwall.

He was the last barrier between Meredith and the mages in the Gallows, she realized even as she pulled him down to her, and he hesitated for a moment but did not resist.

_Well, if it’s my duty to fuck him for the good of Kirkwall, at least he’s pretty._ She almost laughed out loud even as he entered her.

'Cullen,' she whispered in his ear. 'What is it you want?'

He paused.

'To do what's right,' he said finally as she wrapped her legs around his hips. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the side of her face, her cheeks, her lips until they were entangled and gasping and he was shuddering into her.

There was a subtle shift in their lovemaking that night, and Hawke could not put her finger on it until later, when he had left her and she was sitting huddled in the warmth of her tub with her arms around her knees. She let her head rest on her forearms and wondered.

He had been so tender with her that night it made her uncomfortable. Did she want him to stop looking at her the way he did?

For there was no doubt about it; Cullen Rutherford, Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, saw at least one apostate mage in all of Thedas as a person. 

 

 

 

 

One Thursday she saw no sign of him, and she wandered into Aveline’s office to see if the Guard-Captain had seen him. She found Aveline rustling up her sword and shield, preparing to leave the barracks.

‘Oh, Hawke. Good timing. There’s a problem in Darktown, I hear. A band of templars trapped by blood mages and abominations. Just got the tip-off.’

‘I’m hurt nobody told me,’ Hawke said, tutting.

‘I was just about to get you,’ Aveline said. ‘I heard Cullen’s down there. You two are good friends, aren’t you?’

‘Sort of,’ Hawke said, keeping her face perfectly neutral. ‘What’s that idiot gone and gotten himself into?’

‘Nothing we haven’t dealt with a hundred times over,’ Aveline said. ‘Let’s go.’

 

 

The clang of metal on metal led them to their destination. Hawke counted three dead templars, a couple of unsanctioned mages, several assorted shapes in the darkness she knew were nothing human. The hisses and shrieks ahead of her told her what awaited; abominations, twisted into hate made flesh. 

The darkness felt almost alive in the cloying depths of Darktown. Hawke held her staff out before her like a beacon and hurried towards the battle.

Golden hair flashed in the dim light up ahead, illuminated by the light of her staff, and Hawke let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

Cullen staggered, and Hawke was at his side in a flash.

His face was pale. His jaw was taut. Something had cut through his guard so he hunched over in pain, over the pile of vanquished creatures at his feet. Yet there he stood, alive. Just as he had done so long ago on the Coast. Survived, kept surviving, as though he could do nothing else.

She cast. Aveline was there with her, driving her blade forth. They had fought together so long that their movements were almost perfectly synchronised. Step left, cast right, let Aveline's blade come crashing down.

She glanced back to see if Cullen was there, and the momentary distraction cost her a vicious sideswipe from dark claws that raked through the flesh of her lower arm, where there was a gap in her light armour. Cullen lunged forward and cut the beast back even as Hawke sent out another wave of energy. To the side, Aveline moved to cover them even as Cullen slashed at the demonspawn that rushed to flank them.  He held his own, despite his wound, to Hawke's relief.

When the last demon had fallen, Hawke turned to Cullen and inspected the blood ebbing down from between the plates of his armour, leaving a deep stain on his templar robes. Not deep enough to stop him fighting, she mused. She reached out and let her energy flow into him, giving his cells the boost they needed to complete their own repair.

She was no Anders, but it was enough. Hawke was grateful for that small mercy. She didn't relish the thought of bringing the Knight-Captain to Anders's clinic. Cullen breathed out and closed his eyes, letting her healing spell wash over him.

She let Cullen catch his breath and made her way to Aveline's side. They surveyed the mess of tainted flesh in front of them.

'Guess we probably shouldn't leave this lying around,' Hawke said. 'Kinda stinks.'

'I'll get this sorted out,' Aveline said, shaking her head. 'You'll look after her, won't you, Cullen?'

He nodded.

'I don't need...' Hawke started, but Aveline was already gone.

'Are you hurt?' he asked. He was looking at her arm where the clawed demon had left an ugly red streak of blood.

Hawke noticed the sting. She drew a vial from her pocket and imbibed it, not wanting to use up any more of her mana. Darktown was never the best place to hang around in. A minor healing potion--from Venara. She pushed the name out of her mind. Her arm tingled as the cut healed over. His breath was ragged from the battle, and his body was tense from the adrenalin of combat. All her own senses were ablaze from lyrium and magic and something else she could not name. She shook her head. 

'Are you?' she asked.

'No,' he said, his eyes on her. She pushed her hair back and turned to go, but his hand reached out to her waist, gentle and firm, guiding her into him. She felt the cool bricks of the wall against her back as he leaned forward, cradling her head away from the stone with his hand. And he kissed her. His eyes stayed on hers, open, filled with an intensity she had never expected from him. She craved it, even as she backed away from it. Cullen let her go. He was smiling, but when she looked at him, he looked down and away, and the curve of his lips dissipated. 

‘Your troops,’ she said, nodding over at where she had found the bodies.

'We lose more every day,’ he said, his brow furrowed. 'Three dead, and one of them ran when the abominations appeared.’

’You’re very pragmatic about this,’ she said, not unkindly.

’This is the Order,’ he said. ‘I hardly know many of the recruits. Most of them join so they might eat, and leave when they discover what the bread and mead entail.’ There was no bitterness in his voice, just resignation.

He left her reluctantly after they were out of Darktown. The Knight-Captain had his duties, after all, taking his reports back to the Gallows, checking up on his troops.

The kiss lingered long after she had made it back to her home, after she had washed herself clean of all the grime and sweat and blood.

 

 

Cullen had grown adept at slipping into the entrances beneath her basement, coming up through the secret passages in the culverts below Darktown, and he had learned to cover his golden locks with a hood. He arrived later, after finishing up his reports, and when he entered her parlour and slumped down into the settee with a sigh of relief, Hawke started guiltily. She had been brooding about the feel of his lips on hers.

She played it off by making fun of him.

‘Even the way you fight is boring,’ Hawke said with a laugh, poking him under the table with her foot.

He sighed again.

‘You just stand there and hit things with a sword,’ she continued.

Cullen got to his feet, startling her. He leaned forward over her. ‘Boring, am I?’ He had her over his shoulder before she could move. ‘I’ll show you boring.’ He hauled her up the stairs to her chambers.

Hawke was so surprised she forgot her words until he lowered her down onto the bed and set about removing her clothing methodically. There was far too much of it, Hawke thought.

‘I didn’t mean it,’ she told him. He ignored her and continued his duties as she observed him.

There was something about those broad arms after all, she thought, or how his arms encircled her like a protective barrier of steel. Or how he could carry her up the stairs with ease. And... he could do _that_ thing. She was still trying to figure out how to make that request.

Hawke pondered those benefits. Slowly the memory of dark olive skin lying against hers was fading, until she could no longer remember the look in Sebastian’s eyes.

Was it now? Did she dare?

Instead she said, ‘Well, if you’re not boring, surprise me.’

He smiled and lifted her off the bed in one easy motion. Hawke found herself bent over the desk with the remainder of her underskirts hoisted up around her waist, leaving her bare for him.

She wondered what she looked like, face-down, dripping wet and exposed to his view. It was new and different, not being able to see him, not knowing what this new facet of him would do.

The tip of his sex, hot and heavy, dragged against hers, and she could not help but moan for him.

He was slipping inside her and she couldn't think of anything but the way he held her and the things he was doing to her. Just lessons... and who the giver was, she couldn't say.

All at once he pushed her down hard and thrust into her, his heavy shaft almost burning with the force of his unexpected possession, as she had demanded.

'Tell me again,' he managed, pulling out of her as he turned her over. He caught her knees in his large hands and pushed them up over her face, until she was bent in two with her cunt facing the sky and her legs thrown over his shoulders. She lay exposed and bare, split wide open for the taking. His callused fingers pulled her apart and rubbed tight, hot circles against those lips, raw and puffy from their lovemaking, and she moaned again as he replaced his fingers with unadulterated cock. He pushed into her relentlessly until orgasm took over and she writhed against him.

‘You are,’ she gasped, ‘ _very_ boring,’ and he moved his fingers against her again mercilessly until she cried out and her body betrayed her with a long shudder. 

’ _Terribly_ boring,’ she moaned, but he didn’t relent.

After an eternity, he kissed her. He was fucking her even harder and faster, so that she was a quivering, coming wreck on the table, her hands clutching ineffectually at the taut sinew of his arms as he held her down and thrust into her.

‘ _Unfathomably_ boring,’ she managed. 

Cullen made a noise that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and finally he swore and shuddered into her. Hawke came again and again as he rubbed the inflamed collection of nerves between her legs until she begged him to stop, and then he kissed her until her body and her lips were equal parts of burning desire.

That night he held her in his arms as she dozed off into a confused slumber. In her dreams Kirkwall burned, and Cullen stood on a hill watching her, watching Meredith, waiting for something. A sign or a symbol?

She woke that night when Cullen tossed and turned in the bed beside her with a low groan. At first she didn’t understand; when her brain cleared, she realized he had finally lost his resolve and fallen asleep in her chambers. She lifted the sweat-drenched hair out of his eyes, smoothing it against his brow lightly so he would not wake, and wondered why he shook so.

She pondered that when she woke up to daylight and found Cullen had long returned to the Gallows, his side of the bed cold and empty. She left the warmth of her sheets for reality, thinking about him. Thinking about what it was she wanted him to do to her. 


End file.
